


Akaashi's Cafe and Magical Gathering Hall

by SecretMaker



Series: Tumblr Drabbles 2015 [117]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Familiar!Kuroo, M/M, Multi, Owl!Bokuto, Witch!Akaashi, Witch!Kenma, vampire!akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretMaker/pseuds/SecretMaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="http://notsuchasecret.tumblr.com"></a>
</p></blockquote>





	Akaashi's Cafe and Magical Gathering Hall

10-31-15  
Prompt: Akaashi’s Cafe and Magical Gathering Hall  
Paring: KuroBokuAkaKen  
Rating: T  
  
Akaashi’s Cafe was a magical place, Koutarou thought to himself, snickering at the double meaning as he turned his collar up against the winter storm. Not for the first time he wished he had a warmer alternate form; Kuroo’s fur was so much better in the cold than Koutarou’s own feathers. Luckily he didn’t live too far from the cafe, and it only took him a few more minutes to make his way through the door, pausing to stomp off the snow he had accumulated.  
  
He grinned widely, looking around at the familiar setting. It smelled of coffee and spices, the lavender scent of Akaashi’s magic just strong enough for a trained nose to pick it out. The front room was full of humans chatting and sipping their ordinary drinks, unaware of what the cafe hid. Koutarou was just about to slip into the back room for some real fun when he saw him.  
  
He was huddled under a blanket in the corner of a coffee shop, turning the steam from his mug different colors. He was small, smaller than Akaashi, with black roots showing through his blond hair. He had an adorable expression on his face, watching his own subtle magic curl out of the cup in front of him before dissipating into the air. He carried the sharp citrus scent of someone using a glamour to hide from humans. Koutarou watched him for a few minutes before Akaashi called out his name and he had to turn away.   
  
“Hey, Akaashi,” he said. Something about the quiet way he said it must have caught Akaashi’s attention, because he looked directly at him. “Who’s the kid with the blanket?” he asked. Akaashi glanced to the corner, a faint smile tugging at his lips.  
  
“Friend of Kuroo’s,” he answered. “Don’t draw any attention to him, though. He doesn’t like people much.” Koutarou grinned and gave him a two-fingered salute before heading over to his usual seat and flopping there. He grinned to himself and wrapped his hands around his coffee. He inhaled the warm scent of tree bark and summer rain before taking a sip. Akaashi’s specialty drinks were always delicious, if he could be convinced to make them. Of course, not just anyone had access to his secret menu - Bokuto himself was banned from it more often than not. But apparently he had done well in not drawing attention to the little witch in the corner, because Akaashi had put a little bit extra of the memory of a flowery meadow in his drink. He hummed happily to himself as he took another sip. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as the little witch stopped playing with his steam and took a sip. He smiled a shy little smile, and took another sip immediately.  
  
Kuroo came in not much later, bursting through the doors in a flurry of snow and wind. Akaashi sent him a glare from behind the counter, but Kuroo ignored him in favor of a silent conversation with the witch in the corner, one which involved lot of eyebrow wiggling on Kuroo’s part and eyerolling on the witch’s. Kuroo laughed and turned away, catching sight of Koutarou.  
  
“Bro!” he called, making his way over.   
  
“Kuroo!” Koutarou hooted. He stood and met Kuroo with a hug, laughing at the familiarity of it. “Bro, where you been?”  
  
“Dragging that one out of hiding,” he answered, hooking a thumb over his shoulder in the witch’s direction. Koutarou’s eyes widened.  
  
“No way, man, is he-” he cut off, implying his meaning with a vague hand gesture and some eyebrow acrobatics. Kuroo grinned and nodded.  
  
“Sure is,” he said, puffing his chest out. Koutarou grinned wider.  
  
“Dude! I can’t believe you finally got him to come!” Akaashi sent a deadly glare his way, and he fell quiet with a sheepish grin.  
  
“Hey, meet me in the back room,” Kuroo said, wincing at the storm brewing behind the counter. “I’ll go get him so you can meet him.” Koutarou grinned and shot him a thumbs up. He turned and scurried through the door to the back hall before Akaashi could send him any more death threats.  
  
The back hall was dark and musty, empty save for four doors. Two led to bathrooms. One led to the kitchen - and by extension Akaashi’s domain behind the counter. The fourth was old and dusty, a faded KEEP OUT sign hanging crookedly. This was the door Koutarou entered, grinning at the familiar customers gathered inside. He flopped down in his usual seat with a content sigh.  
  
This truly was Koutarou’s favorite place on earth. Well, his second favorite - nothing beat the sensation of soaring on the night wind after all. The room was cozy and warm, filled with lush armchairs and expensive rugs, furnished in dark woods and painted rich reds and golds. It always smelled of magic here, probably because there was always someone casting a spell or brewing a potion or simply existing. Akaashi had told him once that he himself left a residue, but Koutarou could never smell it.   
  
Today, the room smelled like cinnamon and grass, due to Sugawara and Oikawa sitting against the opposite wall. The silver-haired mage was doing something to a hand mirror that Koutarou would really rather not think about while Oikawa plucked daisies out of his hair and pulled their petals off one-by-one, sighing wistfully while Suga laughed at him. There were also a pair of harpies perched in a corner, as well as a group of gnomes getting plastered on apple juice at the center table. Koutarou grinned; Akaashi was going to be pissed when he found out.  
  
Before Koutarou could figure out how to exacerbate the situation the door opened and Kuroo walked in, leading Akaashi and the witch from the corner. The witch had a petulant expression on his face and his hands kept twitching toward his pocket. Kuroo dragged him over to the cluster of chairs where Koutarou was sitting and nudged him into one.  
  
“Bo, Akaashi, I’d like you to meet my master, Kenma,” Kuroo said proudly, puffing out his chest. Free from human eyes he allowed his tail to creep out from under his coat and it waved back and forth hypnotically until Kenma reached out and gave it a tug. Kuroo yelped and dropped cross-legged on the floor in front of Kenma’s seat.  
  
“Stop showing off, Kuro,” Kenma mumbled.  
  
“Pleased to meet you,” Akaashi said in a soft tone. He offered his hand for Kenma to shake. “Akaashi Keiji. I own the place.”  
  
“Akaashi’s the one who makes the drinks taste so amazing,” Koutarou added. Kenma looked at him, startled.  
  
“But you’re-” he started, then blushed and turned his face away. Akaashi laughed as he moved to sit next to Koutarou.  
  
“No, it’s okay,” he assured. “I am a vampire, like you suspected. But before I was turned, I was a human mage, much like you. I don’t have the same connection to the more natural magics that I did as a human, but I have managed to relearn quite a bit.” He paused, studying Kenma carefully. “I hope this isn’t impertinent, but you seem like a very reserved person. How did someone like you end up with a familiar like Kuroo-san?” The question drew a smile out of Kenma, which drew a wider, grateful one from Kuroo.  
  
“We grew up together,” he said.  
  
“I was living in a ditch near his house when he was a kid,” Kuroo told them. “My mom’s master kicked me out for ‘disrupting the atmosphere’ and ‘eating her potion ingredients’ and ‘ruining her curtains’ or some nonsense.” He folded his arms and pouted heavily. Kenma snickered while Akaashi and Koutarou laughed. “That’s how we found out Kenma had his dad’s gift, incidentally. He was sitting outside, so I decided I wanted some attention. I got all the way into his lap before he noticed me, and turned me pink.”  
  
“Pink?” Koutarou laughed. Kenma shrugged.  
  
“I was surprised,” he said. “And young. I didn’t really have control over it.” Akaashi laughed a little louder than before, and Koutarou felt an overwhelming surge of fondness to this kid.  
  
It wasn’t often that Akaashi laughed. From what Koutarou could tell, he hadn’t really had any friends before he had found Koutarou, and he still wasn’t very good at making them. A few regular customers at the cafe, the selkie who lived downstairs from Koutarou, and the ghoul who worked at the apothacary shop where Akaashi got his hemlock. Koutarou wondered how many of them Akaashi would actually consider his friends.   
  
But here he was, talking freely and laughing, all because of this little witch and his stories.   
  
  
  
Koutarou often looked back on that first night when he was alone and his apartment felt too big, particularly on days when he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. It helped to sooth his anxieties and ease his ruffled feathers. One afternoon in particular saw him shifting restlessly between forms, unable to settle. He flopped onto his bed with a sigh, stray bits of down flying everywhere. He was just debating whether going for an early flight would be worth the light-headache when his phone buzzed.  
  
  
KUROO: [Bro I can hear you going nuts. U ok?]  
  
ME: [Bro wtf? how can you hear me?]  
  
KUROO: [I’m in your living room.]  
  
Koutarou stared at the text for a moment, then shot out of the bed and out of his room. Sure enough, Kuroo was lazing on Koutarou’s couch, his master curled up in the armchair adjacent to him. Kenma waved a lazy hand in greeting, then curled deeper into his hoodie.  
  
“Bro,” Koutarou said. “What the fuck?” Kuroo shrugged.  
  
“Our heater’s broken,” he said. “Kenma gets cold easily.” Koutarou stared incredulously at him for a moment, then shrugged.  
  
“M’kay,” he said. “You want me to get the koutatsu out?” Kenma didn’t answer, but his eyes did grow wide and bright. Koutarou chuckled and pulled it out of the closet. Kenma watched in silence as he and Kuroo set up the table and fluffed out the blankets. When they were done he slithered under without a word, blinking contentedly. There was a low popping noise as Kuroo shifted and crawled into Kenma’s lap, purring. Kenma stroked Kruoo, running his fingers through the fluffy black hair. He had a smile on his face, just large enough to be noticeable. Koutarou yawned as he settled in across from them. The room was warm and dark with the curtains drawn, and Koutarou felt sleep coming for him at last. He curled on his side and let it take him.  
  
  
  
He woke sometime later to the feeling of fur tickling under his nose. He snorted once or twice, enough to get Kuroo to bat at his nose with a paw. He groaned and rolled over, taking the cat with him. Kuroo huffed haughtily, but otherwise didn’t protest as Koutarou snuggled up to him.   
  
A low chuckle was his only warning before he heard the digital sound of a camera going off. He opened one eye to see Akaashi, holding up his phone and grinning.  
  
“Akaashiiii,” he groaned. “Whyyy?”  
  
“Oh, stop it,” Akaashi scolded. “you and I both know you were being cute on purpose.”  
  
“I know I was,” Kuroo purred. Koutarou rolled his eyes and sat up, dislodging the cat.  
  
“No one asked you,” he pouted. Kuroo hissed at him and stalked away to curl around Akaashi’s legs.  
  
“Oh no,” Akaashi scolded. “Don’t look for sympathy from me. You got yourself into this mess.” Kuroo huffed and stalked off to a corner, where he sat staring at the wall. Koutarou grinned at him, then flopped onto his back.  
  
“What’re you doing here, Akaashi?” he asked. Akaashi raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“It’s almost eleven, Bokuto-san,” he said. “You should be up by now.”  
  
“That,” Koutarou said, holding up a finger, “does not answer my question.” Akaashi rolled his eyes.  
  
“I’m here because there’s a storm coming, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t out flying in it,” he said.  
  
“Aww, Akaashi,” Koutarou gushed. “You do care.”  
  
“I’m your emergency contact,” Akaashi said. “I didn’t want to deal with the paperwork. Especially if a human found you.”  
  
“Flying?” Koutarou turned to where Kenma was curled, not quite forgotten but not really noticeable on the other side of the koutatsu.  
  
“Bokuto-san is an owl that I had the misfortune of enchanting,” Akaashi answered. Kenma quirked an eyebrow and Akaashi smiled. He sat down at an empty side of the table, tucking his legs under the blanket. “It’s actually a funny story,” he said. “I was out in the woods some fifteen years ago, and I found him with a wing caught in a rabbit snare. He was bleeding out, and I was too panicked and, well, hungry to think clearly, so I just did the first thing that came to mind.” Akaashi smiled sheepishly down at the table. “After all, men don’t have wings, so if he didn’t have any to be caught…”   
  
Kenma turned his stare to Koutarou, who puffed out his chest and grinned.  
  
“I would say I don’t believe you,” Kenma said slowly, “but he’s got a feather stuck in his hair.” Koutarou shook his head wildly, dislodging it. He picked it up with a grin, tucking it behind his ear. Kenma stared for a minute longer, then turned to Akaashi. “I’ve never heard of a mage powerful enough to grant sentience to a wild animal,” he said.  
  
“I don’t know how much sentience I actually granted him,” Akaashi said with a shrug. “Owls are intelligent creatures in the first place. And I try to keep my head down; I’ve had a few centuries to hone my power, and most people wouldn’t take kindly to the thought.” A frown spread across his face, and Koutarou’s heart plummeted.  
  
Whatever Akaashi had done to give him this body had lengthened his lifespan. They had been together for fifteen years, and most of his kind would have been dead by now. Akaashi had taken him in and taught him how to live in the human world, had set him up in this apartment with his own savings, always made sure Koutarou was taken care of. After all that, all Koutarou had to repay Akaashi was his companionship, but sometimes that wasn’t enough.  
  
Even a human lifespan was only a moment for an immortal, after all.  
  
Akaashi must have realized what he was thinking, because he perked up and leaned his elbows on the table.  
  
“I’m actually glad you’re here, Kozume-san,” he said. Kenma looked up at him warily. “It’s nothing that bad,” Akaashi said in a soft, reassuring voice. “I actually wanted to do an experiment, and I need another witch’s help. I have this theory, which Bokuto-san is perfect for testing out, on the longevity of a transformation spell on animals, particularly animals who have held another form before.  
  
Koutarou listened to their conversation happily, entirely unaware of what would be coming his way.  
  
  
  
“I blame you for this,” Koutarou grumbled as he watched Kuroo try not to laugh at him. He pouted more at the slight tug Akaashi gave to his hair for moving too much.  
  
“If you don’t hold still, it’ll take me twice as long, Bokuto-san,” he scolded. “Kenma, did you write down the results yet?”   
  
“Are we calling them quills or spines?” Kenma asked. Akaashi hummed softly.  
  
“Quills,” he decided. “They’re too long to be spines.”  
  
“Whatever we call them, they do not belong on my head,” Koutarou grumbled. Akaashi yanked a little harder for that.  
  
“I’m almost done,” he said. “It’s more than halfway back to hair again.”  
  
“How many different animals have you turned me into?” Koutarou asked.  
  
“Twenty-six, only twelve of which were successful,” Kenma said.   
  
“I thought we decided to call the giraffe successful,” Kuroo said.  
  
“He was only a foot tall,” Akaashi pointed out.  
  
“He was adorable,” Kuroo argued.  
  
“While I cannot dispute that I was, indeed, adorable,” Koutarou interrupted, “I would really prefer to stick to just two species, if that’s alright with the rest of you.” There was a tense silence.  
  
“Just… one more?” Akaashi asked, his voice timid and trembling and everything he knew Koutarou was weak to. “Please? We’ve been leading up to this one all along.”  
  
“What?” Koutarou asked, knowing he was going to regret the question.  
  
“I can’t tell you,” Akaashi said. “But I promise you’ll love it, and if Kenma and I are right, you’ll be able to take this shape at will.”  
  
“It had better be freaking awesome,” Koutarou grumbled to himself.  
  
“Bo, my bro, my friend, my most wonderful companion,” Kuroo said with a dangerous grin on his face, “all four of us know you’re only doing this because Akaashi suggested it.”  
  
“Whatever, man,” Koutarou snapped. “You both suck. Kenma’s the only one here who cares about me.”  
  
“That’s not true,” Kenma said.  
  
“Yeah, man, you know we lov-”  
  
“I can’t stand you,” Kenma interrupted. Kuroo and Koutarou both stood, staring at him open-mouthed as Akaashi doubled over laughing.  
  
“Kuroo,” he wheezed, wiping at his eyes, “you really should have introduced us sooner.”  
  
“No,” Kuroo said, “I never should have introduced you at all. Do you know how much sassier he’s gotten since you two have started hanging out?”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Akaashi hummed. He ruffled Koutarou’s hair and stepped away. “I think that’s all of it, Bokuto-san,” he said. Koutarou reached up to feel his hair, coaxing it back into its usual shape.  
  
“Thanks, Akaashi!” he chirped. “You’re the best!”  
  
“Dude, you were literally complaining about his existence two minutes ago,” Kuroo said.  
  
“No I wasn’t,” Koutarou said, shocked and offended. “I would never do something so crass as to imply that Akaashi is anything less than divine.”  
  
“What do you want, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi droned.  
  
“Nothing but your love,” Koutarou sang, skipping into the kitchen. “Hey, Akaashi, do you have any mice?”  
  
“Third drawer,” Akaashi called. Koutarou opened the drawer to find the stash Akaashi kept here, hooting happily. He reentered the living room with a mouse in his mouth and one more in his hand, flopping down next to Kuroo on the couch. He held his spare mouse out, grinning when Kuroo took it and popped it into his mouth. Akaashi and Kenma watched them with matching looks of disgust.  
  
  
  
“’In conclusion, it is not possible for a once-animal to hold the shape of another species’,” Kenma read aloud. “It’s not bad, but the ending could be a little stronger.”  
  
Akaashi groaned, burying his head in his hands in a movement that almost dislodged Koutarou from his shoulder. “I’ve rewritten that ending four times,” he cried.  
  
“Let it rest, Keiji,” Kuroo told him. He stretched languidly then curled in Akaashi’s lap. “You’re tired. You’ve been working on it for the last two months. Take the night off, and look at it again in the morning.” Akaashi smiled and stroked the fur between Kuroo’s ears.  
  
“You’re right,” he said softly. “Thanks for your help, Kenma.” Kenma shrugged and placed the article on the table. “No, I mean it. Thank you. It means a lot that you’re putting your name as the primary author.”  
  
“You can’t draw attention to yourself,” Kenma said. Akaashi smiled fondly at him, but Kenma narrowed his eyes. “When’s the last time you ate?” he asked.  
  
“Yesterday,” Akaashi answered. “I have some rabbit blood in the fridge, but,” he shrugged. “I don’t really have an appetite tonight.” Kenma rolled his eyes and shuffled over to the couch.   
  
“Kuro, get up,” he said, nudging his familiar out of Akaashi’s lap. “You too, Koutarou.” Koutarou hopped from Akaashi’s shoulder to the back of the couch, then down onto the seat, where he shifted. Kuroo crawled into his lap and curled there, watching Kenma climb into Akaashi’s.  
  
“Kenma, you know I don’t like doing this,” Akaashi protested even as his hands came up to Kenma’s waist, steadying him.  
  
“And you know we don’t like it when you starve yourself,” Kenma said. “Kuro and Koutarou are both here. They won’t let you go to far.” Kenma pulled his shirt over his head, and the other three all stared at the sinuous movement of the muscles of his back and stomach. He dropped the shirt off the side of the couch and leaned in to Akaashi, turning his head so that his neck was entirely exposed. “Go on, Keiji,” he whispered.  
  
Akaashi started slow, nosing at the skin where Kenma’s neck met his shoulder. He mouthed up and down Kenma’s neck, pausing every now and then to suck gently, enticing the blood to the surface. When he did bite, it was only a little, and well away from the artery. He sucked once, lightly, and lapped at the wound.  
  
Kenma moaned, clutching Akaashi a little tighter as his venom seeped into him. Koutarou’s entire body started to heat up as he watched the way Kenma writhed in pleasure, Akaashi mirroring him as he drank. After a moment Kenma’s movements started to become sluggish, and Akaashi pulled away with a gasp. Kenma sighed happily and pressed a kiss into Akaashi’s forehead.  
  
“I trust you,” he whispered into Akaashi’s hair. “All three of us do.”  
  
It must have been Koutarou’s imagination, but Akaashi looked like he would have been crying, had he been able. Instead he wrapped his arms around Kenma and pulled him close, burying his face in the little witch’s neck.  
  
“Thank you,” he sighed. Koutarou leaned his head on Akaashi’s shoulder, breathing in the warmth that came with a feeding.  
  
  
  
Koutarou woke with his face buried in Kenma’s hair, the little witch curled on his chest. He sighed happily and pulled Kenma a little closer to him. He could hear Akaashi and Kuroo bickering in the bathroom, could feel Kenma’s heartbeat against his stomach, could breath in the scent of all four of them clinging to Akaashi’s silk sheets.   
  
“Tetsurou, please, just let me try one more time,” Akaashi pleaded.   
  
“No, Keiji, it never works!” Kuroo screeched. There was a flash of light and the smell of lavender and Kuroo came streaking out of the bathroom, his hands clamped firmly over his head. The ends of his hair were turning a bright blue and curling wildly. “What did you do to me?” he howled, skidding to a stop  in front of the mirror hanging over their dresser. “Keiji, you turned me blue! BLUE! I can’t be seen like this!” Kuroo dove onto the bed, wedging his way behind Koutarou and Kenma in an attempt to hide from Akaashi. He shifted with a pop and crawled into the tiny space between Koutarou’s shoulder and the headboard.  
  
“Kuro,” Kenma whined, snuggling closer to Koutarou. “’M trying to sleep.”  
  
“Sorry, Kenma,” Akaashi said. He reached over them to grab Kuroo by the scruff of his neck. “Just trying to-”  
  
“Keiji, stop trying to fix his bedhead,” Kenma mumbled. “I’ve been working on it for years. It’s not going anywhere.” Akaashi stared straight ahead with a blank face as he dropped Kuroo back onto the bed. Kuroo screeched and launched himself off of the bed and out of the room. Akaashi huffed and followed him.  
  
“Tetsurou, at least let me try and fix the color!” he called as he left. Koutarou laughed and rolled onto his back, taking Kenma with him.  
  
Since the day he had first seen Kenma turning his steam different colors in the corner of Akaashi’s cafe, his life had become loud and busy and much closer than it had ever been before. He hadn’t been inside his apartment for two weeks, and Kenma and Kuroo could say the same for theirs. There were four toothbrushes lined up on the sink, four sets of shoes in the entryway, notes written in four sets of handwriting on the fridge. The kitchen cabinets were full of herbs and potion bottles and catnip. There were mice in the pantry and bags of blood in the fridge and feathers and tufts of fur on all the furniture.  
  
Koutarou had never been alone before, but now, as he listened to Kuroo complain loudly about the state of the milk jug, as he watched Akaashi roll his eyes and change the color of the scarf he was holding, as he felt Kenma breathing slow and even for all that he was awake, he realized that he had never really had a home, either.   
  
“Hey, Kenma?” he asked softly. The witch shifted so that he could look up at Koutarou. “Thanks.”  
  
“For what?” Kenma asked.  
  
“For coming to the cafe with Tetsu that day,” Koutarou answered. “For crashing my apartment when your heater broke. For helping Keiji torture me a couple months ago.”  
  
“That wasn’t all me,” Kenma said softly. “You need to take credit for some of it, too.”  
  
“How do you mean?” Koutarou asked, cocking his head. Kenma blushed and he tucked his head under Koutarou’s chin so that his expression was hidden. He curled a hand around Koutarou’s neck, stroking gently.  
  
“You’ve been a good friend to Kuro,” he said. “And Keiji told me about how you stuck by him, even after you figured out how to be human. I couldn’t have been a part of this if I hadn’t already known you were a good person. And-” He mumbled something under his breath, holding Koutarou a little tighter.  
  
“And?” Koutarou prompted gently.  
  
“And I couldn’t have loved you if you didn’t love me first,” he whispered. Koutarou felt warm all over, and he held Kenma tighter, tucking his nose into his hair.  
  
“See?” Koutarou murmured. “That right there. That’s what I was thanking you for.” Kenma hummed and reciprocated Koutarou’s embrace. They stayed like that for a while, neither one saying a word.  
  
“Oi, lovebirds!” Kuroo called from the kitchen. “It’s almost nine! The cafe’s opening soon, we need to go!” Koutarou cracked an eye open and craned his neck back to look at Kenma.  
  
“You wanna blow him off?” he asked. Kenma grinned.  
  
“Goodnight, Koutarou,” he whispered. Koutarou chuckled.  
  
“Goodnight, Kenma.”  
  
“I heard that!”

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://notsuchasecret.tumblr.com)


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